


We're Touching The Sky Tonight

by itsscrow



Series: Prove I'm Alright [4]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: I only watched the movies/cartoons, Identity Reveal, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Wingfic, cuz it's me and Idk shit tbh, deadpool is deadpool so expect possible deadpool things, possible slow update, sorry if the other characters are a bit ooc, sorta - Freeform, still thinking of a main villain orz, wingfic but none of that mating/animal like stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsscrow/pseuds/itsscrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is wingless. Not because he was born that way or because some asshole decided to removed them, but because he himself cut them off and set them ablaze. Wings were a source of pride for anyone. They shone with their own brilliant colors and patterns, they were like fingerprints, unique. No two wings were the same.</p><p>Wade is wingless. Not because he was born that way or because he had cut them off, but because he had gone through torture. And <i>that</i> man decided his wings weren't needed in their experiment. It only got in the way. But even after he had escaped and hunted down every last one of them, he kept it - his detached wings. They were beautiful unlike him,and it was the only thing that reminded him of who his was and that his soul mate was out there. A soul mate who might need it more than he. After all, Deadpool was immortal.</p><p>Of course his wings just had to go missing, didn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Touching The Sky Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Uh so I'm back with another Story, even though I have yet to finish all the other stories I've got >.> I just want to post this now. First chapter's already done but I'm going to post it once I get a decent amount of chapter 2 done.  
> As always, this is unedited.  
> I hope you enjoy my shitty fic anyways.

Peter is wingless. Not because he was born that way or because some asshole decided to removed them, but because he himself cut them off and set them ablaze. Wings were a source of pride for everyone. They shone with their own brilliant colors and patterns, they were like fingerprints, unique. No two wings were the same. 

 Peter had loved his wings at first. They were a beautiful combination of black and scarlet. He’d show them off to his friends, to his lover, Gwen. Her wings were a soft green with a brown over layer and specks of white. 

A year into high school his uncle died, shot dead by a burglar he failed to stop. There was so much blood, and when he stood by the bathroom mirror that night he could only see the black and red wings on his back. It didn’t look beautiful, it looked  _ evil.  _

_ An Angel of Death’  _ He had thought. 

Dark murderous wings covered in bloodied feathers was the only thing he could see in that mirror. A thief didn’t cause this disaster. He did. It was his fault. And he told himself over and over again since that night that if only -  If he’d just made a different choice he wouldn’t be here right now feeling this way. 

_ If only. If only...  _ **_If.Only._ **

_ Maybe. Possibly.  _ **_What if?_ **

He knew that dwelling on the ‘what if’s ‘ in life  wouldn’t change a thing. His uncle would still be dead, his Aunt would still have lost her love, and he would forever feel guilty. Because he was selfish, and it had costed him. 

Even so, Gwen continued to praise his wings and eventually he’d forgotten about the ‘Angel of Death’. 

Until, of course, her demise. His best friend had gone insane and his girlfriend had died. He lost two people that night and he snapped. 

He couldn’t bare to look at his reflection without seeing  _ death. _ His wings were a curse, bad luck. People closest to him died, and he thought that maybe it was because he was an ill omen. His wings that were pitch black with scarlet feathers that resembled blood. A bird bathing in blood. Like a  Raven.

One night he’d had enough. While his Aunt cleaned up in the kitchen, unaware of his return home, he’d taken a knife up to the bathroom. He held the blade to the base of his wing, or as close as he could reach, and dug the blade into the hollow bone. He bit back a cry as the bone snapped after the blade sawed through. His wings dropping to the ground, warm sticky blood flowing down his back and hands shaking. He glared at the mess. He drug the wings outside where he set them on fire, watching them burn away to ash and the wind scattering away the remains.

And then he woke up in a white room with his Aunt sitting next to him crying. 

_ “Who did this?” _ She had asked.

He smiled weakly at her.

Did he regret cutting off his wings?

_ “I did.”  _

Not at all.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> decided to leave this as a drabble. Maybe I'll come back to it in the future.


End file.
